


Supposed To Be Simple

by Totoffle



Category: Take That
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totoffle/pseuds/Totoffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Gary can't have Mark to himself, he's willing to try sharing...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supposed To Be Simple

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the writing/recording/touring/aftermath of Progress, in an AU where wives/girlfriends don't exist.
> 
> This was written for the Take That Slash Secret Santa 2011.

It was supposed to be simple.

Start a band, write some songs, play a bit of the piano, possibly do some dancing if pressed - that was how it was supposed to be. Gary hadn't even considered the idea of falling in love, however messed up it was. He certainly hadn't imagined himself falling in love with one of his band mates.

But here he is, sitting across the room from him, trying not to look and failing miserably.

The most depressing thing about it is that Mark keeps glancing over and giving Gary that lovely smile of his, the one that melts Gary's heart after all of these years. Sometimes he hates that smile, because he knows how weak it makes him.

What Gary  _doesn't_  know is how to approach the situation and sometimes, being in a group of people who are openly affectionate with one another, who always have been and probably always will be, makes him feel incredibly nauseous. If it hadn't been for the sake of the band, Gary is sure he would've run far, far away a very long time ago.

He's here, though, almost two decades years later. And through all of that - good times, bad times, lonely times - Gary has kept this secret all to himself, never breathing a word for fear of ruining things.

That's all about to end, today.

As he crosses the studio, he wonders if it's actually a good idea. It'll be good to feel free at last, but Gary doesn't know how he'll cope with the - inevitable, it seems, in his current mood - rejection. Even if the air ends up clearer, the awkwardness would probably kill whatever it is that they have now.

"Markie?" he says, in a voice that sounds braver than he feels. Mark looks up and smiles again, almost as if he's been hoping that Gary would come over to talk to him. He gets to his feet and wraps his arms around Gary like he hasn't seen him for months, and it feels so good that Gary can hardly bear to break them apart. He has to, for his own sanity. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah, of course," Mark replies, following him out of the room. 

Gary doesn't have to look at the other three to see their expressions; he's seen them all look bewildered many times before. The most amusing of which had probably been when Nigel first showed them the outfits for  _Do What U Like_ , but thinking about Mark clad only in those black trousers and boots really doesn't help his nerves, especially when the jelly gets involved of its own accord.

He stops when he gets to a room that seems to be used for storing guitars. Neither of them have ever been in it before. They've only been at this recording studio for three weeks, and almost every day someone ends up bursting into the room exclaiming that they've just found the best thing yet.

"Oh wow!" Mark exclaims, immediately running over and inspecting a blue guitar that's propped up against a wall. Gary watches him as he trails his fingers over the neck, lightly plucking at the strings to see how it sounds. After a second he turns around, looking sheepish. "Sorry, mate. You wanted to talk about something?"

Talking about things is easier this time around, except not about this. Gary's had years and years to perfect this speech, but even so he's never quite managed to get the finer details sorted out in his head.

He swallows and tries to think of the right words. It's hard. "I wanted to talk about... about feelings."

And then he says it, the five words that have been on the tip of his tongue for twenty-odd years. This time they don't get stuck in his throat - he says them clearly and firmly, needing them to be heard and, hopefully, understood.

"I really like you, Mark."

"Aww, I really like you too, Gaz."

That makes him feel on top of the world, until Mark ruins it by telling him that he thinks he's in love with Rob. Mark can't lie; it's just not in his genes. He doesn't mean to break Gary's heart, but he manages it anyway.

"I dunno," Mark says with yet another, almost wistful, smile playing on his lips, "I've just always thought he and I had... something special. Is that crazy?"

After a moment, Gary manages to start breathing again, and he blinks at Mark. "No, you're right," he hears himself saying. "Maybe you do have something special - you should probably talk to him about it."

"You think so?" Mark asks. When Gary nods, he does too. "Well, I think I will, then. He can only say no, I suppose, so there's no harm in it. Thanks, you're a real mate."

"Not at all," Gary says, forcefully cheerfully. He doesn't think it's too obvious. "I only want you to be happy."

~*~

They're all over each other.

It's been three weeks and Gary is close to the edge, all he can see is Mark and Robbie, Robbie and Mark... It's driving him slowly mad.

When Gary mentions it to Howard, he just shrugs. "I hadn't really noticed, mate."

Jason has his theory, as Jason always does. "You're looking for it, that's all. You're more aware that it's there. It's like when you get a new car and then you keep seeing the same model after that, yeah?"

Gary doesn't think it's like that, not even a tiny bit, but he nods all the same. When he sits down and really considers it, he realises that, as bloody usual, Jason Orange is absolutely right.

So he stops noticing. Or he tries, anyway. Whenever Mark and Rob are in the same room as him, even if they're sitting on opposite sides of it, Gary ensures that there's something else for him to focus on. Anything will do, just so long as he doesn't have to spend the whole time anticipating the next glance or word or touch.

That's probably why most of these lyrics have come about so quickly.

~*~

Gary is the first one into the studio most days, and this morning is no different. Today it's entirely on purpose; he'd wanted to get there before everybody else so that he could have some peace and quiet to work on that one verse that's been driving him insane. Just two short lines will do, but his creativity has been slowly drying up the more he's forced himself into using it.

He doesn't bother turning the lights on when he gets in, and so when the room is suddenly illuminated he nearly drops his laptop in shock.

"Jesus, Mark!"

"Oh God, sorry mate!" Mark says, looking as if he's had a fright, too. "Didn't know you were here."

"Yeah, I just wanted to get this last bit done."

Mark sidles over and settles down on the sofa. He is, in Gary's mind, dangerously close. "Can I have a look?" he asks, leaning over so that he can see the screen without waiting for a response. "Is this what you've been working on?"

"Among other things. But mostly this, yeah."

"It's so good!" Mark says, his tone so genuine that Gary starts believing it, even though he's hated these words since he first started writing them. "I don't wanna ruin your lyrics, so I'll keep me mouth shut and not suggest anything. I think it's great."

Gary thanks him and, to get the subject off of himself, asks if there's been anything new that Mark has been working on recently.

They talk about lyrics for nearly two hours, the others still absent. At no point do they move an inch. Gary's laptop perches precariously on his knee, but as he doesn't shift his position at all, it doesn't come into any immediate danger.

Somehow they get on to talking about Mark and Rob, and even though it's painful to hear, Gary is quite interested. He's genuinely pleased that Mark has found some sort of love, even if it's not with him. Just the look of sheer joy on Mark's face is enough to convince Gary that maybe it's not all bad.

There's still a gnawing feeling in his stomach.

"What about you, Gaz?" Mark cocks his head to one side. "Are you happy?"

 _No,_  Gary wants to say,  _not really._

Instead, he gives a shrug. "I guess. Got a lot to be happy about, haven't I? Dream job, nice house, good friends..."

At the last word, Mark's expression softens even more. "So, do I make you happy?" he asks, unusually quietly for him, these days.

"Of course," Gary mutters, suddenly very interested in a stain on the table. "Probably happier than anyone else does, Markie. You always have."

The next thing he knows, Mark has placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently to make him look up.

"Tell me how you really feel, Gary."

And so Gary talks. 

He talks and talks about how much he likes Mark, how much he's always liked Mark and always will like Mark. The words just spill out of him and once he gets started he finds that he can't stop. Soon everything around him is just a blur, and all he can see is that little man sitting in front of him, smiling thoughtfully and looking utterly delicious. 

Gary tells him that nowadays he thinks if you want something, you should just go out and get it, no more mucking about with glances across rooms or accidental finger-touching. That's for lovestruck teenagers who can't handle rejection; not fully grown men who have lived with it for years.

As it turns out, Mark really likes Gary too.

"You said it yourself - we're adults, if there's something we want we should go and get it. We're a bit old for playing silly games, aren't we?"

"Not all games are silly."

"No," Mark muses, "but they are when they get in the way of other things."

They don't say anything for awhile, and in Gary's case it's because he doesn't know quite what to say, or how to say it.

"Gary, do you want me?"

It only takes the slightest nod for Mark to get his answer.

"Okay then," he says, leaning forward so that Gary can feel his breath against his skin. Before he knows it, Mark has relocated the laptop to the floor and pressed their lips together.

Gary isn't sure what to do with his hands, what to do with his legs, what to do with his groin. From the look in Mark's eye he's very keen, but is he as eager as Gary has been for the past, oh, twenty years?

Most of his worries are put to one side when Mark pushes him backwards and climbs on top, rubbing his crotch against Gary's - slowly, but with enough force to make a point. He wants this just as much, apparently.

"Y-You're sure about this?" Gary pants. Mark has released his mouth for just a second. "We don't hav-"

"Gaz, please just shut up."

Gary shuts up.

He has to, really, as Mark has his tongue down Gary's throat, rendering any attempts of speech utterly useless. Not that Gary is complaining. In fact, he slides his hands down to Mark's arse and gives it a squeeze through the fabric of his jeans, all inhibitions well and truly gone.

"I knew you liked me," Mark says, sitting up and pulling Gary with him, "I don't know how, but I did. I hoped so, anyway."

"Yeah? Why didn't you say anything before?"

Mark shrugs and takes his t-shirt off. Gary suddenly doesn't really care that much about the whys and why nots, he just wants more of this.

Once they're both suitably undressed, Gary finally feels in control of the situation. After all, with them both naked there's nothing to hide, nothing to speculate about. Nothing, that is, apart from what it would actually be like to make love to Mark.

It isn't long until he finds out. Mark wriggles around until he's underneath Gary, and then reaches down to his discarded jeans. Gary wonders what on earth he's doing, but it makes sense when he sees the half-empty - and he tries not to think about  _why_  it's half-empty - tube clutched in his fingers.

"Always prepared," Mark says with a smirk. He holds the tube out to Gary and looks at him with expectant eyes.

"Er," Gary says, wavering a little. "You want me to...?"

Mark laughs. "If you wouldn't mind - I quite fancy the idea of walking afterwards." He punctuates the latter with a wink, which makes Gary's breath hitch in his throat.

The lube is cold against Gary's fingers, but Mark doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he purrs with delight, slithering down the sofa to increase the contact. Gary has to take deep breaths as he slides one finger inside Mark, desperate not to lose it before they've even started.

This is nothing like Gary had imagined; not even his wildest, filthiest dreams could ever have created anything like in the image in front of him. Closing his eyes, Gary can still see Mark, sprawled out on the sofa. One arm is above his head, the other by his side. One leg is hitched up, the other hanging off of the edge, his foot almost on the floor. He's beautiful.

And he's all for Gary, too.

"Is that... okay?" he asks, gently easing another finger in and revelling in the throaty moan from Mark. "It doesn't hurt or anything?"

"No," Mark gasps. He's gripping the couch quite firmly. "No, it's great... God Gaz, I can't wait much longer, please hurry up..."

Gary doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. In one fluid motion he eases his fingers out of Mark and replaces them with his cock – barely a second passes where there isn't some part of him inside Mark. With one push he's fully in, and it's beyond anything he's ever felt before.

"Fuck, that's it," Mark murmurs, bucking his hips to make the thrusts harder and deeper. Gary wants this to be slow and tender, he can't risk hurting Mark. He uses his greater weight to his advantage and stops Mark from moving by simply placing a firm hand on his waist. "Gaz, no, please! I need-"

"Shh. Just relax."

Mark falls silent, and his immediate compliance makes Gary shudder with delight and temporarily forget about tenderness. Using his free arm to brace himself against the arm of the sofa, he pushes himself forwards, harder, faster, until he's completely exhausted but extremely satisfied.

"I've wanted this for so long; you and me like this... Then you went off with Rob and I thought... God, I never thought I'd get this chance..."

Realising he's rambling, Gary decides to shut himself up by kissing Mark, which isn't exactly a punishment. But it does the trick. He can't talk, he can't embarrass himself - he can't do anything but concentrate on the lips under his own.

Their tongues rub against one another as they kiss, sending shivers right down Gary's spine. He feels Mark slide a hand between them and start fisting his cock, which is already soaking wet against their stomachs. 

Gary's orgasm is building quickly, almost too quickly, and he's positive that he's going to lose control any second. All it'll take is just one tiny little thing...

"Come for me, Gaz, let me feel it..."

And he's gone. Crashing their lips together to muffle his cries, Gary climaxes, stilling his hips as best he can so that all he's doing is enjoying the feeling of coming deep inside Mark. It's all he's ever wanted and it's the best thing he's ever experienced.

That is, until Mark cracks his head back and whispers  _Gary Gary Gary_  over and over, his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted in a beautiful mixture of pleasure and pain. Watching him come like that, with them still connected in so many ways, is just perfect.

It's all over far too soon, of course, but Gary tries his best not to think of it like that.

They don't speak at all - not about what they've just done, about the future, or about Rob - they just stay on the sofa and hold one another, sharing sporadic, lazy kisses. Gary has never felt more positive in his entire life, and so, no matter how much he tries to stop it, the pessimist in him is just waiting for something to go wrong.

Sure enough, it's all ruined when the door opens, and Rob appears in the frame.

"Gaz, I had a great idea f... Mark?"

Startled, Mark jumps off of the sofa with an impressive demonstration of his flexibility. Even though they're in trouble, Gary takes a second to admire his pert buttocks. He forces himself to look at the floor when he realises what he's doing.

"Rob, let me explain!"

Rob doesn't say anything to that, he just shakes his head and looks confused. Not angry, not upset, just bewildered. He stands there, watching Mark pull on his underwear and trousers, before turning around and walking away, muttering something that Gary doesn't catch. He definitely hears his own name.

Mark runs out after Rob, pulling on his discarded t-shirt and begging him to wait. Gary can hear the desperation in his voice. It hurts, he admits that, but he understands. Mark and Rob have something different, something that nobody else is a part of, something that Gary will forever be excluded from. And up until today that had been okay. 

This morning, however, has felt like he's finally been accepted into Mark's very secure and very private world, only to be shut straight out of it again.

Two minutes earlier and he had been on top of the world, and now... Now all of the trust that the five of them have been rebuilding over the past couple of years is gone. Gary can feel it slipping away, and he doesn't know what to think.

He  _wants_  to chase after them and apologise profusely for fucking things up between them. At the same time - and Gary hates this part of him - he feels no shame over what's happened. Everything happens for a reason, Gary thinks, and he wouldn't have done it if it hadn't been the right thing to do. That's what he tries to keep telling himself, anyway.

When Mark comes back some thirty minutes later, he's clearly been crying. Shouting, too, from the sound of his voice. Still, there's an undeniable happiness about him, and that radiance that has just always been a part of Mark's DNA is back, glowing.

"I talked to him," he says, sitting down next to Gary. "Once he calmed down he said he was fine with it. Us sleeping together, that is." Mark looks at Gary, sees his shocked expression, and laughs. "Oh c'mon Gaz, it's not like me an' Rob were off down the church any day soon, were we? It's all just  _casual_ , y'know?"

 _Casual_. That stings and yet it doesn't at the same time.

"I suppose so."

"There's no suppose about it," Mark takes Gary's hand and grasps it gently. "We've got Rob's approval."

Gary frowns. "I don't need his approval."

"His blessing, then. He's promised not to run to the papers or start getting angry if he catches us looking at each other. As long as you're happy, er,  _sharing_ , then so is he. And so am I."

So that's what it's come to - a timeshare. Or a  _Mark_ share, Gary supposes. The image would normally make him laugh, but he's really struggling to see the funny side for once. The whole situation is causing a serious sense of humour failure.

But having a little bit of Mark is better than none at all, he decides. And so, at least for now, Gary can live with it. 

He hopes so, anyway.

~*~

It works for a few weeks, the three of them being like this. Well, sometimes it feels like the two of them and the odd-one-out, and Gary feels like the latter more often than not.

"D'you fancy doing something tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sorry, I'm supposed to be going to a baseball game with Rob."

"Oh." Gary can't quite hide the disappointment in his voice. "Well, what about in the evening?"

"We were gonna go back to his and watch the Stoke match..." Mark pauses, plainly knowing the answer to his next question before he even asks it. "You could join us?"

"No, I wouldn't want to interrupt. Friday, after we're done here?"

Mark makes an apologetic face. "Cinema, sorry. How about Saturday?"

"We fly back on Saturday; we won't be able to go out together without creating a media frenzy..."

Mark bites his lip, not sure what to say. Gary can tell he agrees but doesn't want to start an argument.

Himself, he wants to take Mark by the shoulders and shake him hard. He wants to look him in the eye and say,  _Look, it's obvious that Rob's the one you want, so let's just end this because it hurts too much, Markie._

He doesn't.

He doesn't get a chance to.

Mark gets there first.

"This isn't working for you, is it Gaz?" he says. "And I don't want to hurt you, so... so maybe...?"

There's no need to clarify. Gary nods, mutely. His head is pounding, his breathing is ragged and he feels like his heart is being ripped in two; all the same he feels relieved that he's not the one who's said it.

Apparently Mark has a few other things on his mind, which almost makes it worse.

"It's different with you," he says, not really to Gary but to somewhere just behind him. "With Rob it's intense, exciting, so much fun. Sometimes I don't know what's happening from one minute to the next. With you I know I'm always safe. I know you'll always be there and you'll look after me and let me do the same for you." He pauses for a second to collect his thoughts. "Maybe it's him that it's different with."

Mark rubs at his face quickly, and when he lifts his head again there's the hint of a smile, there. It's not a real smile - his eyes haven't crinkled and his dimples are missing – but it still makes Gary melt.

"I'm so sorry, Gaz."

With a final, painfully soft kiss to Gary's cheek, Mark leaves the room.

~*~

The tour goes well and Gary is proud of everything they've achieved. A couple of things haven't gone exactly to plan, but on the whole he couldn't have asked for anything more. He manages to get through every show without breaking down, anyway, and that's something.

Once everything is packed away for the final time, Rob tells them he has to go back to LA. They had expected it, of course, but it's difficult all the same. He'll come back and visit, he says, whenever he can. 

Without any words being exchanged they all know the reunion is over, at least for now.

Gary doesn't have to look at Mark to discern his expression. That's why he isn't surprised when, a couple of weeks later, Mark makes an announcement of his own.

"I'm going out to stay with Rob for a few months. We're not gonna be working on the new album for a bit, and Gary's busy with X Factor, so it's the perfect time."

Although Mark's telling the three of them, it seems to be directed mostly at Gary, and he's not sure whether to be happy about that or not.

And so he goes to LA to be with Rob. There's a small leaving party for him beforehand, and Gary gets horrendously drunk. He stays out of Mark's way as much as possible - the combination of the alcohol and the tight black trousers Mark has opted to wear is just too much of a risk - but there's nothing he can do to avoid the peck on the lips that Mark gives him before climbing into his taxi.

Gary stands on the kerb and watches the cab drive away; clutching his glass of wine so tightly that he nearly shatters it. It's quite a long time before he drags himself back inside to join the rest of their friends, and by that point he just wants to curl up into a ball and cry.

Of course, that wouldn't be like him at all, so he stays upright and smiling. 

For the next two months, Gary throws himself into as many projects as he can. X Factor, charity gigs, anything to take his mind off of Mark and Rob and LA and warmer weather and not much in the way of clothing.

But whenever he stops, even for a minute, it's all he can think about.

~*~

"Gaz, open the door!"

"No."

"C'mon mate, it's freezing out here!"

"Go home, then."

Eventually, he opens the door to an annoyed Howard and a concerned Jason, both shivering in the icy wind. He steps aside and they rush past him, stamping their feet on the doormat to get rid of the snow and get the circulation going again.

They accept his offer of tea and brandy without hesitation, and Gary does feel a bit guilty. It'd taken him ten minutes to open the door, and a quick check of the decorative thermometer in his kitchen reveals that it's officially below freezing. He turns the heating up before going back into the living room with three steaming mugs.

It isn't long before the pleasantries - weather, X Factor, Howard's DJing, - end, and the surprisingly gentle interrogation begins.

"You look like shit."

Gary rolls his eyes. "Cheers, Doug."

"No offence, mate," Jason says, between sips, "but it's true. Have you been sleeping properly?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm just a bit busy at the moment, that's all. Everything's fine. It's all good."

Neither of them believe him, he can tell. It's all lies, so it's to be expected.

"You've not been yourself since before the tour. Is it because of Mark?"

Although he doesn't mean to, Gary winces. Hoping that the other two didn't notice, he shakes his head. "Nah, that's all sorted. He's happy with Rob, yeah? And I'm happy for him. I mean, them. I'm happy for _them_. Seriously, I'm okay."

Jason goes to say something else, but thinks better of it. Gary is grateful.

They talk about football for the rest of the night.

~*~

The sound of the doorbell has become something of an annoyance, recently. If it isn't carol singers it's Jason or Howard, trying to get him to come out for a drink or a bite to eat. 

He refuses every time. He's busy, that's what he keeps insisting, yet they continue to come over nearly every day. In a way, Gary is thankful for their perseverance. 

This time it isn't Jason. It isn't Howard, either. It isn't even carol singers.

"Hi."

Gary is so shocked that he almost slams the door in his face.

"Merry Christmas!"

"I..."

"Can I come in?"

Even though Gary's brain is screaming at him -  _no no no!_  - he moves aside to let Mark past, fully aware that his mouth is hanging open and completely unable to close it. He watches as Mark drops his bag and hangs up his coat, all the while wondering what he's doing there.

"I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here."

"Er, it had crossed my mind."

Silently, Mark takes Gary's hand and leads him through to the living room, where they sit down on the sofa and just stare at one another.

Mark is the one to break the silence.

"Rob sent me. He said I was being a miserable git and there was evidently some stuff I had to work out here before... well, before anything. So here I am."

Tonight, it seems, is Mark's turn to talk. He hardly pauses for breath as he explains how confused he's been feeling, how many times he's woken up in the middle of the night thinking of Gary, how much he's missed just sitting around and bickering about lyrics. He doesn't let go of Gary's hand whilst he speaks, squeezing it gently at random intervals.

Gary isn't quite sure what to say, or what to feel. Part of him is thrilled that Mark is there, in his house, linking their fingers and talking so freely about his emotions. At the same time Gary can't help feeling slightly... angry? No, it's not even angry, it's wounded.

When Mark has finished, Gary clears his throat. There's a frown on his face, and he can tell it's making Mark frown, too.

"You can't just waltz back here and expect me to have you back, Mark. You must realise that?"

Mark's face turns to shock, but he doesn't say anything.

"You chose Rob over me, remember?" Gary continues, pulling his hand away sharply. "I'd just started getting over you-"  _this sounds very convincing_ , he thinks, "-and now you've come all this way back just to fuck around with me? It's not fair, Mark. I won't let you do this to me. Not again."

"No, it's not like that..." He tries to grab Gary's arm again. Gary won't let him. "Gary, please listen to me."

Gary gets to his feet and goes back out to the hall. Mark follows, obviously sensing exactly what's going to happen. "Just... Just go. Go back to Rob."

He opens the front door and Mark steps outside, tears in his eyes. "Gary, please..."

With a deep sigh, Gary closes the door. He whispers, "Sorry Markie," as he does.

"I'll wait here, Gaz. I'll wait all night if I have to."

It's only as Gary starts to make his way back into the living room that he notices Mark's coat hanging on the hook. He thinks about taking it out to him... No, that would defeat the point. Mark has to suffer, it's only fair. After all, Gary has been hurting for a very long time, isn't it only right that someone else should? Especially the one who caused the pain in the first place.

He turns the television up as loud as he can stand, and tries to lose himself in whatever it is that's on. Whenever an advert comes on he changes the channel at once, because not even Gary can be distracted by people trying to sell him frozen foods or car insurance. 

Out of the window he sees a flash of lightning, and then hears a crack of thunder. The rain starts at once, pelting against the glass and hammering on the conservatory roof. Gary does his best to tune it out.

A second thunderclap. Gary turns the television up again.

As the third boom of thunder ends, Gary is wrenching the front door open and dragging Mark into the house, wrapping himself around him and calling him all of the names he can think of. Mark shivers and shakes, but almost seems to melt in Gary's arms.

"I'm so sorry," Mark whispers into his neck. "I never meant to hurt you like I did."

Gary shushes him and untangles them, brushing Mark's sopping wet fringe away from his eyes before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He's not quite certain as to why he does it; it just feels like the right thing to do. Taking hold of his hand, Gary leads him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"Get those wet things off; I'll see if I've got anything that'll fit you..."

It's a tall order, but Gary decides that it doesn't really matter if whatever he finds is too big. He just wants to keep Mark warm, dry and - most importantly - safe.

When Gary turns around, clutching an old t-shirt and pair of tracksuit bottoms, Mark is still fully dressed.

"I can't... I can't..." He's fumbling with his buttons, his cold, pink fingers slipping over them uselessly. "My hands are too numb."

In the back of his mind, Gary had known that he would end up doing this. As he starts to unbutton Mark's shirt, he avoids eye contact. It's easier that way, he decides. In fact, he'd decided that a long time ago.

"Gary?" Mark says, in a voice that instinctively makes Gary look up at him. "Thanks."

Gary shrugs. "It's fine. Can't have you getting sick because of," he goes to say 'me' and changes his mind at the last second, "this."

Once Mark is stripped down to his underwear, Gary turns to pick up the dry clothes he had dropped on the floor. Mark reaches out a hand and halts him before he can. It's the gentlest of touches on his shoulder, but Gary flinches as if he's just been stung.

"Hey," Mark whispers, "I mean it. Thanks, for everything."

"It's fine," Gary says again. And it is, really. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not. I don't worry about anything when you're there."

There's something in the way that Mark says that, and Gary can't hold it in any longer. He stands up and slides his hands around the back of Mark's neck, pulling him in. As their lips meet, he hears Mark let out what sounds like a sigh of relief, and then supposedly-numb fingers are grappling at his shirt, desperately trying to get the buttons loose.

They break apart so that Gary can take over, removing his clothes faster than he ever has done before, tossing them to the ground so that he can get back to what he has wanted for months - Mark.

But for all he has mellowed over the years, Gary is still a worrier. He needs to check that everything's okay before he can do anything else; that's just how he is in basically  _any_  situation, but never more so than right now.

"You really want this?"

"Gary..."

That's all that he needs.

Within seconds they're sprawled out on the bed, Mark on top of Gary, hugging and kissing as if they've been apart for decades, rather than months.

"I've missed you," Mark mutters as he plants a trail of kisses down Gary's neck, "I couldn't stop thinking about you whilst I was out there."

He doesn't slow down when he gets to Gary's shoulders. Instead, Mark slithers further downwards, nipping and lapping at Gary's skin, until he gets to his increasingly tight underwear. Deftly he slides two fingers into the waistband, pulling Gary's boxers off in one smooth move.

When Mark's lips close around his cock, Gary lets out a moan in a voice he almost doesn't recognise as his own. 

"I don't think - fuck, that's good - I don't think I've stopped thinking about you since you left me, Markie... Thinking about holding you, loving you, fucking you..."

Mark crawls back up the bed and looks into Gary's eyes.

"Stop thinking," he grins. "Just do it."

With hardly any effort, Gary flips Mark over onto his back. He peels Mark's underwear off and parts his legs gently, reaching for the tube of lube he keeps in the top drawer of his bedside cabinet.  _Just in case_ , as he's always told himself.

Mark feels tight around his fingers and he wants to thrust hard, really make him feel it. He doesn't, though. Instead he's gentle; maybe a bit too gentle, actually, as Mark starts to roll his hips. 

 _Impatient little git_ , Gary thinks, fondly.

"Stay still for me love, it won't be much longer."

Carefully pulling his fingers out of Mark, Gary liberally coats his cock in lube, not taking his eyes away from Mark as he does. There's no way he's letting him out of his sight, not again. That soft hair and pretty mouth, those sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks – it really is  _all_  for him this time.

In no time at all Gary is inside him, moving slowly at first but gradually building up speed until they find a comfortable rhythm. He's missed this, probably more than he'd actually realised, and just the sight of Mark beneath him causes such a surge of love and lust that Gary has to force himself to keep composed.

Apparently he's not completely as in control of himself as he had thought.

"Fucking hell," Mark says, "this is a bit rougher than it used to be..."

Gary slows down as much as he can stand. "Is it too much?"

"No... it's fucking  _brilliant_..."

"You said it was more exciting with Rob, more intense," Gary says, taking hold of Mark's chin so that he can't look away. He uses his other hand to hold his wrists above his head. "Changed your mind yet?"

"Oh God," Mark groans, squeezing his eyes shut and nodding as best he can in Gary's grip. "Yes, yes! You're amazing, Gaz, you're always amazing."

Gary's happy with that. He lets go of Mark's face and leans down to kiss him, but doesn't loosen his grip on his wrists. There's still that stupid, unshakable fear that he might run away, back to Rob as fast as his footballer's legs will carry him.

"Rob an' me - we... we haven't," Mark gasps, suddenly, "we haven't had sex since before the tour."

There's something unbelievably hot, heart-warming and poignant about Mark's statement, and Gary can't quite decide which it is the most. He releases his hands anyway, feeling fully confident at last.

"Why not?" he asks.

Mark closes his eyes. "Just haven't." He opens one eye again, quirking an eyebrow at the same time. "I probably got on his nerves because I couldn't stop talking about you."

Gary groans into Mark's shoulder, trying to resist the urge to sink his teeth into the soft skin and failing spectacularly. He doesn't leave a very noticeable mark, but it's enough to stake his claim on the man underneath him.

He goes to take hold of Mark's cock, but Mark is already there, gripping himself tightly. Not wanting to disrupt his rhythm, Gary moves his fingers upwards, desperate to cling onto something that'll hold him steady.

He wants to last for as long as possible, but soon he just can't hold on any longer, and Gary comes, hard, inside Mark, one hand gripping the headboard and the other tangled in the sheets. His orgasm seems to trigger Mark's as seconds later he feels him tense up, hears him whimper beautifully - 'oh  _Gary_ ' - and then he comes, his fingernails digging into Gary's hips.

It takes a minute or so for them to regain enough composure to actually speak, and when they do it doesn't make a lot of sense. Still, it doesn't really matter.

"Happy?"

"Happy."

~*~

The afterglow is definitely the best thing that's happened to Gary since all of this started. He's on his back, with Mark curled up next to him occasionally pressing gentle kisses to his chest. Gary doesn't feel the need to keep Mark in a vice like grip; he somehow knows that he won't run away, not now.

"This... you coming back... this wasn't  _all_  Rob's idea, was it?"

Mark doesn't say anything for a long time; Gary can feel him smiling against his skin.

"No. I was in the pool, just thinking about things. Rob comes in asks what's on my mind, and I just give him this look, you know? And he gets it straight away - he always seems to know what I'm thinking. Anyway, I told him why I'd been doing a lot of thinking about you, and he listened to me ramble on. He was so great. Then he left the room, saying he'd be back in a minute. When he came back he showed me a bit of paper, and d'you know what it was?"

Gary shrugs, although he can guess.

"Print-out of my home-bound flight details. He had to do a lot of arguing with the airline but he got 'em, and... well, here I am."

"Here you are."

Gary makes a mental note to call Rob in the morning. He's got some serious thanking to do.

~*~

When Gary wakes up the next morning, the winter sun streaming through the curtains and a sleeping Mark Owen draped across his chest, he can't stop himself from smiling. 

For the first time in ages, it really feels good to be Gary Barlow.


End file.
